Indian politicians weaponise fish symbolism in West Bengal polls, weaponizing cultural identity to obscure systemic failures in agrarian and fishery governance

Indigenous fishery governance in West Bengal—practiced by Adivasi and Dalit communities—relies on sacred groves, seasonal bans, and collective decision-making, but these systems have been systematically eroded by state-led enclosure of wetlands and corporate aquaculture. The Munda and Santhal communities’ traditional knowledge of floodplain fisheries, which sustained biodiversity for centuries, is now sidelined in favor of high-yield monocultures that prioritise export markets over local food security. The political spectacle with fish ignores these living systems, reducing biodiversity to a mere cultural prop.

The colonial-era *Zamindari* system privatised water bodies, displacing indigenous fishery commons and creating a legacy of caste-based exclusion where Dalit and Adivasi fishers were relegated to the lowest rungs of the hierarchy. Post-independence, Nehruvian industrialisation prioritised large dams and chemical-intensive aquaculture, while Green Revolution policies marginalised traditional practices. The 1991 liberalisation further accelerated the corporatisation of fisheries, with multinational firms like CP Foods (Thailand) and Charoen Pokphand gaining control over seed and feed supply chains, leaving small-scale fishers indebted and dependent.

In Kerala, fish symbolism is tied to the *Matsya* avatar of Vishnu, but political parties leverage it to mobilise coastal communities around issues like mechanised trawling and coastal erosion—framing fish as both livelihood and identity. Meanwhile, in Norway, the concept of *fiskeforvaltning* (fisheries management) embeds fish within a technocratic framework, where scientific quotas often clash with Sami reindeer herders’ seasonal migration patterns. The contrast highlights how fish become a battleground for competing visions of governance: communal stewardship vs. state-corporate control.

Scientific studies confirm that small-scale, polyculture systems (e.g., rice-fish farming) outperform industrial aquaculture in protein output, carbon sequestration, and resilience to climate shocks, yet these findings are ignored in policy circles dominated by agribusiness lobbies. Research from the Central Inland Fisheries Research Institute (CIFRI) shows that West Bengal’s wetlands have lost 30% of their fish diversity since 2000 due to pollution, salinity intrusion, and overfishing—trends exacerbated by unregulated groundwater extraction for shrimp farms. The political fish spectacle distracts from these measurable ecological collapses.

In Bengali folk traditions, fish (*matsya*) are revered as symbols of fertility and abundance, featured in *Pala* performances and *Chhau* dances, where their movement embodies cyclical time and ecological balance. The political appropriation of this symbolism strips it of its spiritual depth, reducing it to a hollow signifier in a spectacle of power. Meanwhile, in Odisha’s coastal communities, fish are invoked in *Jagannath* temple rituals as offerings to the sea god, reflecting a sacred relationship with marine ecosystems that contrasts with the transactional use of fish in electoral politics.

Climate projections for West Bengal indicate a 20-30% decline in fish catch by 2050 due to rising sea levels, cyclones, and freshwater salinity intrusion, yet adaptation strategies remain absent from political discourse. Scenario modelling by the WorldFish Center suggests that agroecological fish farming could double protein output while reducing carbon footprints by 40%, but requires dismantling corporate monopolies on feed and seed. The political fish spectacle offers no pathway to these futures, instead reinforcing short-term electoral gains over long-term resilience.

Dalit fishers in the Sundarbans face triple discrimination: caste-based wage suppression, lack of land tenure, and exclusion from government welfare schemes like PMMSY (Pradhan Mantri Matsya Sampada Yojana). Women fish vendors, who handle 70% of fish trade in local markets, are systematically excluded from credit and decision-making, despite their role in ensuring food security. Adivasi communities, whose sacred groves (*jaher*) once sustained fish populations, now struggle against forest department restrictions and mining encroachments, their knowledge dismissed as 'backward' by urban elites.